Return from the Edge
by Turquoise Sun
Summary: Ch 3: Vara is more important than she thought herself to be - enemies from every corner are beginning to appear. Rated M just in case. Essentially follows KotOR II with a few twists. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

The woman crushed her eyebrows together as she rigged the wires inside the utility droid before her. Her small, black-gloved hand could barely maneuver in the tight space of the older model. Her light, creamy skin was smudged with dirt and grime from the day's work, spilling just slightly onto the sleeve of her black shirt that cut off just below her elbow. She pulled out a hydrospanner from her tan vest with three large pockets that lined the outside of it along the front to get to work on some oddly shaped bolts and screws on the inside. After a few minutes, she pulled the hydrospanner back and inspected her handiwork with her deep blue, almond shaped eyes. She took out a handkerchief from her utility vest and wiped it down her rounded face and slightly angled jaw, then shoved the cloth back in one of the many pockets of her vest. Standing up to stretch, she instinctively placed a hand on the back of her head, ensuring that her long black hair was still in the simplified traditional Deralian style - pulled back and looped high on her head into a hooped ponytail. She placed her hands on her hips, just above where her shirt ended and her tan pants with numerous pockets running down both legs began to show itself.

[Vara, how's that droid coming?] another woman's voice called from the front of the repair shop she was working in. She had asked in Deralian.

[Looks good from where I'm standing,] Vara replied, closing the top of the utility droid with a satisfied smile, [When's Lous coming to pick it up?]

[He just called - he said he'd be here in a few minutes,] the other woman called back. The woman who had called her was Nila - she was the one who ran the droid and repair shop. The business began with her great grandfather, and it stayed in the family, along with the new expectation that any immediate family members would learn the skills to repair, and possibly build, almost any droid of any model. It was high standards for a Deralian working-class family, but they never ran out of business, and the native people always appreciated the skills the family had developed.

Vara walked from the shop to the back of the front desk where Nila was leaning on and leaned next to her. Her face was similarly round to Vara's, though a little longer, and the corners of her eyes were sharper. Her irises were hazel and her hair, although pulled up into a similar style, was much shorter. When the two unraveled their hair, Vara's reached the back of her hips while Nila's only reached just below her shoulder blades. Nila's ungloved hands, while slimmer, where longer, especially in the fingers. Although Vara wasn't exactly shapely, she still held together a decent pair of hips and a small waist, while Nila was slim as a board. Nila also stood at a good 5'3" while Vara stood at a solid 5'6".

[I see the shop hasn't burned down yet,] Vara said, smiling. Nila let out a humored cross between a laugh and a gasp.

[You've always had the strangest humor,] Nila pointed out, though she couldn't keep from smiling, [It's a wonder you get so many proposals.]

[I guess awkward jokes just turns these guys on,] Vara said, never changing her expression. Nila snorted and rolled her eyes.

Nila scrunched her eyebrows together then turned to Vara and said, [I'm sure you've been asked this a thousand times by the other townsfolk, but why aren't you married yet?]

[What do you mean by that?] Vara asked, raising her eyebrows.

[Come now, it's not like you haven't had any suitors since we brought you into our household,] Nila responded, raising her own eyebrows, [You're nearly thirty! Have you no interest in a family of your own?]

Vara looked out to the front of the shop, taking in a sharp breath as she tensed up. Nila wondered for a second if she should have said anything or not.

[I guess I've thought about it, but...] Vara said softly.

[Is there something about it that worries you?] Nila asked gently.

Vara let out a harsh sigh and said, [I guess I'm afraid of... how my child, or children, would be.]

[You're afraid you wouldn't be a good mother to them?] Nila more clarified than asked. Vara just bit onto the inside of her lower lip.

Nila let out a sigh and looked forward towards the shop entrance and said, [I can understand that. I've been terrified since accepting Rico's proposal. I'm the youngest of two in our family, and all I've ever really lived around were droids. How am I supposed to raise a family?]

Vara stayed silent, teeth still pressing on the back of her lip. A small chime resounded as the door to the shop opened up, and Vara immediately stood up and forced a polite smile on her face with a relaxed pose. The one who was walking into the shop was a male, green skinned Twi'lek, probably in his forties. He smiled and waved at the two of them as he came up to the front desk.

[Ah, ladies!] the Twi'lek spoke in Huttese, [I hope you are well today. You really should step outside when you can; the weather is absolutely lovely!]

Nila laughed a little, and said in Huttese, [Good to see you too, Lous. I hope the locals aren't giving you too much trouble.]

[Eh, they don't shy away from me as often,] Lous replied as he shrugged, [I've grown quite comfortable with this planet.]

[Glad to hear it,] Nila replied. She turned to Vara about to say something when Vara raised her hand with a slight smirk.

[I'm on it,] Vara said in Huttese as she walked back to where she left the utility droid. She crouched down in front of it, opened a flap and punched in the code, then closed the flap again. The droid powered up, it's photoreceptor lense glowing. It swerved it's head back and forth, taking in its surroundings before looking at her and making a series of beeps and boops.

[You're owner's in the front, ready to bring you back,] Vara said to the droid in Huttese. The droid made a series of beeps and started to roll its wheels, heading to the side door that lead to the front of the shop. Vara stood up and walked up with it, opening the door to let it out of the room. The droid rolled up next to Lous and made a few cheerful beeps.

[Ah, there you are my little U1 unit!] Lous greeted the droid cheerfully, [You look as good as ever. Be sure to thank the nice woman for your upgrades.]

The droid turned around and made a few grateful beeps to Vara.

[No problem,] Vara responded, then said to Lous, [If you have any issues, be sure to call us back.]

[Oh, absolutely,] Lous chimed, [The locals weren't lying when they said that your family was the one to go to for droid help. Speaking of which...]

[Is there another droid you need work on?] Vara asked, only afterwards noticing the thoughtful face that had suddenly fallen on the normally amiable Twi'lek.

[No, that's not it,] he said, then addressing both of them, [Normally I wouldn't be concerned about this, but considering the other locals were, I think I should bring it up. There are some rumors that Republic soldiers have come to the area.]

[Republic soldiers?] Vara repeated.

[What are they doing here? The last time they came to Deralia was during the Mandalorian Wars,] Nila added.

[I've heard that they are looking for someone, but I cannot say for certain,] Lous said, [Most of this is rumor, and in the end, a rumor is a rumor, no?]

[I suppose,] Vara muttered. Nila looked up at her.

[Vara, you've traveled around Republic space,] Nila began before asking, [What do you think would bring the Republic here?]

[Well, it depends on how many are here,] Vara said, [The most likely scenario I can think of is that they're chasing a criminal of some kind. Either that or looking for a place to erect a memorial from the Mandalorian Wars; although it's been ten years since they ended. Or they might be investigating a possible threat along the Outer Rim; though I'm sure if there was one, we'd have heard of something by now.]

Nila didn't move from her spot, but she had clearly tensed up during the conversation. Vara reached over to pat her on the shoulder, a concerned look in her eyes. Lous sighed.

[I hate to leave on such a sour note, but I should finish my errands for today,] Lous said regretfully, [Do enjoy the nice weather before the sun sets, ladies. I hate to see your pretty faces so gloomy.]

[Thank you, Lous,] Nila replied. He flashed them both a concerned smile as he waved and walked back to the door, the droid following faithfully behind him.

* * *

It was evening now, when Vara and Nila closed and locked up the shop and returned to their shared home. Nila's brother, Deren, had gotten home earlier from his business taking at-home calls for repairs. Nila and Vara stripped out of their grimy work clothes and took their turn in the refresher, then changing into long gowns that wrapped around their bodies and tied along the sides, with long, wide, square-ish sleeves. Vara's home gown was a deep blue with gold and silver embroidery flowers scattered along the soft cloth. Nila's home gown was a vibrant red with pink and orange petals flying about the cloth design. Nila walked down into the kitchen to cook and Vara went off to dust some of the corners and sweep the floor. Yesterday their chores were swapped. As Vara finished cleaning the steps, Nila was plating the table for dinner. Nila rang a small bell when it was done, and the sound echoed throughout the house. The three placed themselves around the low table, Vara and Nila sitting on their legs while Deren crossed his. They bowed their heads quietly in thanks and began to reach for the foods, filling their plates, as the meal began.

Deren looked up at Vara as he began to eat, while Vara kept an absent gaze on her own food. He looked over to Nila.

[How is Rico?] he asked in Deralian. Vara tensed a bit but continued eating.

[I haven't seen him today,] Nila admitted.

[Has he revealed any of the wedding plans? He can only keep so many secrets from the bride's family,] he said.

[His mother is doing most of the planning,] Nila commented, and added, [But he did tell me yesterday that they are planning on the Spring, around the first bloom.]

Deren smiled and said, [Ever traditional a family. I was able to speak to his father today. He praised you quite a bit.]

[I didn't realize I made much of an impression,] Nila flustered slightly.

[You keep selling yourself short,] Deren said with a slight smile. He then turned to Vara, who was quietly eating the whole time.

[I've received another request today: one from Tobis,] he said, his tone a little sharp, [And you never responded to Mart's request.] Nila's eyes fluttered from Vara's face to Deren's, and she quickly went back to her food.

[Let Mart know that I am sorry, but I cannot accept his request,] Vara said calmly, taking another piece of food to her mouth and chewing it slowly, never looking at Deren. Deren glowered at her and rubbed his lips along his teeth.

[You know, Serel has recently accepted my proposal,] Deren said, annoyance written deep within his voice, [And Nila will be wed within the next year. In time, there may not be a place for you.]

Vara quietly ate. Only the sound of utensils scraping plates entered the air.

[Your proposals are also wavering significantly,] Deren added, [You are getting old, and there may soon not be any men willing to take you as their bride.]

More silence, as Vara kept her gaze away and Nila continued glancing between the two.

[Have you nothing to say?] he asked darkly.

Vara looked up at him.

[And just what should I tell you?] Vara said, a slight challenge in her tone.

At that, Deren groaned loudly, throwing his head backwards.

Tossing his head forwards again, he announced, [How about what kind of man it would take to get you to start a family? Or how about why you've refused every proposal you've received since we've accepted you into our household six years ago? Or why you embrace many of our traditions but will not uphold the most basic one?]

Vara sighed and nearly groaned, [Haven't we already been down this path?]

[Unless you point me the way out, I cannot help but walk it,] Deren nearly growled.

[And you would care for this Outsider's opinion?] Vara snapped.

[Your blood is pure Deralian - look in a mirror and surely you can see that!] Deren yelled, slamming his fist on the table, [You may have lived your life apart from us, but you came to your home, embraced your mother tongue, and followed our life. Because you are one of us, born as one of us, and you will die as one of us.]

A loud buzzing noise sounded from the front door. Nila quickly excused herself and fled the room. Deren shaked his head and buried it in his hands, Vara no longer touching the food on her plate.

[I just don't understand,] Deren said quietly, desperation weaved into his voice. He looked up at her, clasping his hands together.

[We are your family,] he said, voice straining, [Why can't you talk to us?] Vara bit the inside of her lower lip, letting her eyes drift down to the plate. Deren groaned, letting his face fall back into his hands.

[Um, Deren,] Nila spoke up from the doorway that left the dining room and kitchen area. He slowly lifted his head up to face her.

[There are some men here...] she said, [They... would like to be our guests.]

[Who are these men?] Deren asked, letting his voice waver.

[They're Republic soldiers...] Nila's voice trailed off. Deren's eyes shot open and he sat up straight. He quickly stood up and wiped his hands along a cloth.

[Make however much more we need. I'll see to our guests,] Deren said abruptly before brushing past Nila. Vara and Nila quickly went back into the kitchen, making double the servings of what they had made before. Nila mentioned quickly to Vara that they have a Huttese translator, but none of the other soldiers could speak it even though they seemed to understand her. Vara nodded as she swiftly chopped vegetables and herbs and meats and handed them to Nila for cooking. After Vara had finished with the preparations, she ran to the cupboard to grab a few large party plates and laid them along the counter, washing the dirty dishes and giving a quick rub to the counter as she went. Just as they were plating the new food, Deren walked in with five Republic officers. Speaking in Huttese, he made an apology about the table and how they were not expecting guests. He turned and made gestures towards the furniture and artwork of the room, commenting proudly on their family as he did. One of the officers turned around, clearly uninterested, and squinted his eyes when he saw Vara as she cleaned off the food from the table and Nila replaced it with the new food and clean dishware. The officer that noticed her tapped the officer next to him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. The second officer turned with his upper body, looking her up and down with his eyes as she tried to ignore them. The second officer nodded. Vara stepped back from the table when they were done making it.

[Dinner is ready for our guests,] Nila announced in Huttese, bowing low with one hand against the folds of the top of her shirt and the other outstretched towards the table.

[Good, good!] Deren said in Huttese, feigning cheerfulness, [Please, everyone, enjoy yourselves. I do hope you find our preparations satisfactory.]

Four of the five Republic officers gathered around the table, picking food off of the various serving dishes and chattering in Galactic Basic. Vara was a little surprised she still understood any of it. The one officer that didn't sit down was the first one that spotted Vara, and he was talking to Deren lowly in Huttese. She saw the officer point to her and Deren gave her a wave for her to join them. She walked hesitantly towards the two men, and gave a small bow with her hand placed upon her chest when she was close enough.

"Good evening miss," he said in Basic, "I am Commander Taryn of the Harbinger."

Vara gave another small bow and said in a roughly accented Basic, "Vara Mindor, sir, and welcome to our humble home." Deren blinked at her after she spoke. The Commander smiled.

"Well, Miss Vara Mindor," the Commander said, "I'm not so sorry we interrupted your dinner now. We were sent to collect you." Vara blinked and her eyes widened slightly.

"Why is a Republic cruiser sent to collect me?" she asked.

"I wasn't given any details," the commander begrudgingly admitted, "But it is of the utmost importance that you accompany us and return you to Republic space." She stammered a bit, while Deren looked back and forth between the two, completely lost at the conversation.

"I suppose if it's important enough to send a cruiser after me..." Vara muttered, and asked, "When will you be leaving?"

"We will be leaving in the morning," the commander said, "I suggest you pack light and get to sleep as soon as you can. I appreciate your cooperation." He nodded to Deren and joined his fellow officers at the table, who had already eaten most of the food.

[What was that about?] Deren asked in Deralian, still blinking, and a little agitated.

Vara sighed inwardly and looked at him, and said a little sadly, [They're going to take me back into Republic space.]

[What?] he blinked again, [Why?]

[I don't know,] she admitted quietly.

A moment of silence passed between them.

[I... should go pack my things,] Vara said softly, looking to the floor. With that she walked out of the room and rounded the hall and up a set of stairs. Once at the top, she entered her room, the second door on the left. She pulled out a bag and filled it with a few personal items - toothbrush, hair ties, hydrospanner, handkerchief, and the like. Then she took her work clothes and gave them a quick wash before laying them out for use the next morning. The black, heavy working boots she wore were downstairs by the door. She looked through her closet for something nice - a non-traditional gown that would work well in case she had to accompany a private dinner or a formal party. She frowned as she scanned through the clothes that hung there. Then her eyes glanced off into the dark corner of the closet. Reaching down, she pulled out the old gown she had purchased almost eight years ago; it was a rich, forest green, velvet dress, littered with dust and lint. It had a low scooping back, dipping and rising sharply, the lowest point between the shoulder blades. The front also had a scooping neckline, but much more shallow, barely breathing past the collarbone. She held it up against her body and saw that the gown still just barely brushed the floor. Then she wondered if she still had the shoes she bought with it.

Tossing the gown on her bed, she went digging through the closet, finding numerous things she had forgotten even existed: chokers and old jewelry she never wore anymore, expired hair dyes of various extreme colors, leather straps and chains with no obvious purpose, an old blaster that didn't work. She slowed down her sorting as a sadness filled her eyes, with each old, painful memory. Somehow she could almost smell the dirty cantinas and rough hotels behind them. Somewhere in the mess she found a hunting knife, and images of wild jungle and vicious beasts blurred through her mind. She tossed it on her bed and reminded herself to sharpen it later. Then she found them: a pair of dusty, black shoes with a slight heel, a cover and strap for the human heel and ankle and a slip along the front with a small, tear-shaped hole where the second toe would be, next to the big one. She set to cleaning her old clothes before throwing them in the bag she had, and then sat down to sharpen the old knife. When she opened it, she was surprised to see that it hadn't rusted in the slightest. There was a light knock on her door.

She looked up and said in Deralian, [Come in!]

The door slid open and Nila peaked her head around into Vara's room, her fingers wrapping themselves around the wall she stood by. She looked sadly at the clothes, the small bag, and the weapon that she didn't know Vara had comfortably held in her friend's hands.

[It's true, isn't it?] Nila asked sadly, [You're leaving us. And so soon after you've found your way home.]

Vara gazed at Nila, her lower lip slowly retracting itself between her teeth.

[Yeah,] Vara finally said, [They said it's important too.]

[Why?] Nila asked in a harsh whisper, [Why you? Why now? Why ever?]

[I don't know,] Vara admitted.

[What do you mean 'you don't know'?] Nila's voice began to raise.

[Just that - I don't know!] Vara let out in desperation, [I'm not even sure if they know.]

[How could they not know? They come charging in to our little planet to find you. How could they not know?] Nila stared at her, angry, confused, hurt all in the forefront of her eyes.

[And you!] Nila continued, accusingly, [How is it that you're so important? What did you do? What are you?]

Vara shook her head, just as lost as her friend was, and said weakly, [I'm just a nobody. Wandering the Outer Rim until some kind family decides to take me in. I haven't been in Republic space for ten years.]

Nila's jaw clenched, as she stood in the doorway and crossed her arms.

[You're lying,] she accused.

Vara looked at her, wide-eyed and blinking, and said, [Why in the world would I lie to you?]

[Why don't you tell me?] Nila jabbed, [Have you been hiding? On the run? The Republic wouldn't want you so badly if you were 'just a nobody'.]

[But I am!] Vara protested weakly, [There's nothing special about me.] Letting her head drop, she added under her breath, [Not anymore.]

Nila waved back and forth on her feet, still glaring at Vara.

[I guess it's a good thing you've never taken a husband,] Nila said darkly, [You're family would be heartbroken to find their wife and mother was wanted by the Republic.]

With that, Nila spun on her heel and left. Vara stared down at her partially sharpened knife, and returned to the rhythmic practice she was doing earlier. Time passed, the sun quickly setting, and she heard the guests leave. She tucked away the newly sharpened knife and placed it in her bag, which she then tossed next to her clothes for the next day. Before she was about to change into her night clothes she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around to see Deren standing in the doorway.

[Anything you'd care to say to us?] he asked sternly, his brows raised.

Vara looked at him puzzled and said, [Goodbye?]

Deren placed his hand in front of his eyes, groaning.

[You're never going to tell us?] he moaned.

[Deren, I don't even know what this is all about,] Vara nearly spat, [I'm just as lost as you are.]

[The Republic consider's you important, and you're important for a reason,] he spat back, [You can't even guess?]

Vara opened her mouth and then shut it again, her mind both whirling and blank at the same time. He shook his head and left, letting the door close behind him. She shrugged off her clothes and loosened her hair, threw on a knee-length nightshirt, and crawled into bed.


	2. Chapter 2: Men of Their Own Right

A man-like figure stood looking out through the gaping hole at the end of the ship's bridge, wires and pipes exposed and metal frayed as they bent in every which way around the rim; it was one of several that it had sustained from the Mandalorian Wars. Only through a constant, subtle hold through the Force was the corpse of a machine capable of flying through the galaxy. The figure whose will was all that kept it and the score of crew members barely alive stood seven feet tall, garbed head to toe in padded black armor and cloak, the hood pulled up over his head. Even his face was covered, hidden by a white metal mask. The only places where one could glimpse at his face were the holes for his eyes and the gap that opened from above his nostrils, surrounding it, where the mask stopped on top of the upper lip. It had a metallic line driving down the center, unifying the halves of the face and red lines dashing from the top of the eye openings upwards to the forehead. Yet within the gaps of the mask, his face was still hidden by shadow.

The sound of soft footsteps echoing along the bridge behind him pulled him from his meditation, basking in the blackness that surrounded them. A rustle and the tiniest of thuds alerted him that he was being addressed.

"You have called for me, Master?" the speaker's voice was husky and rich, feminine and hollow.

He replied without looking away from the void that was the ideal of life, his bizarre language a cross between hissing and screaching, [There is... something in the Force.]

"A disturbance?" the woman behind him clarified, her voice betraying her bewilderment.

[Yes... No...] the hooded man reached out with his mind again to help him find the words for this strange thing that he had felt, finding that he did not need to reach nearly as far as when he first found it.

[It is something I've never experienced before, and yet it has always been there,] the creature said, [It is like... a tremor that has gone on for years, yet has been too small to sense.]

"I," the woman behind him started slowly, "do not believe I have felt this 'tremor,' Master."

He turned around to face her. She knelt low on the bridge floor, the one high knee revealing the long dark red, soft dress that she wore underneath her leather-like black robe, the sides of the rich red veil falling around her hidden face; the only part of her body that was revealed from her clothing was her pale jaw, cheeks, nose, and full, dark lips. Even her hands were hidden underneath black gloves.

[Then find it,] the man hissed darkly, [I need to know what this is, and have it removed if necessary.]

"Of course, Master," she said dutifully, bowing her head lower towards the ground. With that, she rose to her feet and left the bridge. He turned back around to face the hollow galaxy, only to find that the tremor would not leave his mind.

* * *

"Let's see..." Atton Rand mumbled, pacing slowly around a series of plasteel cylinders and footlockers, focusing his hazel eyes as he examined a datapad in his gloved hand, his fair-hued fingers free of the brown cloth that otherwise surrounded his palm and reached a few inches before his elbow. His solid black boots that he had polished that morning were now dull, the soles crusted with unidentifiable dirts and oils which only packed thicker from his pacing along the landing pad near the older industrial sector of Nar Shaddaa.

"Forty ounces of refined Andris, sixteen ounces of Giggledust, ten ounces of Neutron Pixie..." he pointed towards a few of the cylinders as his brown hair once again fell into his face. He quickly brushed it to the side; the front near his face was the only long section of his hair, and even then it tended to only reach around his eyes when it was being uncooperative.

"...twenty ounces of Yarrock, twelve ounces of Gree Spice, six ounces of Shenir, and..." he paused at the end of the list, then reached down into one of the plasteel cylinders and carefully pulled out a small package wrapped in dark paper several times and tightly sealed.

"Huh. Somebody got a raise," the man commented before returning the package of Glitterstim to its container. Many of the other containers held basic trade items - clothes, droid parts, computer packages, holo-games, dried food, and datapads. He glanced one last time at his shipment before ensuring that all the spice varieties were well stored inside the many hidden compartments. He stretched his back and smirked to himself, then picked up one of the plasteel cylinders and started walking up the ramp to his tiny freighter.

"Need a hand?"

Atton turned his upper body, shifting his back leg so that his feet were perpendicular to each other. A man was running up to him - tall, cropped black hair, very little muscle mass. He had a smirk to match the rusting gold ring that swung from his left earlobe, a padded brown vest resting over his plain, off-white short-sleeved shirt, and faded black pants, with a brown belt and shoes.

"Vas, you lazy son of a bantha!" Atton shouted, letting his inner laughter show on his face, "I was just going to do this run without you! What happened - that Twi'lek give you a run for your money?"

Vas laughed as he bent down to the cargo and lifted a container so it rested against his chest.

"No idea what happened to her," Vas said, walking up the ramp, "I woke up and she was gone. Along with my drink stash."

Atton laughed and said, "I bet that was your fault."

Vas gave him a playful glare and retorted, "Hey, at least I got laid. Or at least I think I did."

"Think you did doesn't count," Atton snorted, finishing the walk up the ramp before placing the container he was holding on the floor and sliding it against the wall. Vas came up next to him and placed his cylinder next to the one Atton had just put down.

Vas turned as Atton started walking back down the ramp and yelled to him, "You remember where we're going this time?"

"Four stops," Atton grunted as he picked up the bottom of a footlocker, then called, "Hey nerf-herder! Get down here and help me with this."

Vas made a quick jog down the loading ramp before swinging around to the other side of the footlocker Atton was holding and picking it up. The two men lifted the box high off the ground and walked back up the loading ramp. Once inside the freighter, they shifted around and tucked the footlocker neatly against the wall. They went back down to the ramp, each grabbing another container for themselves.

"First we're heading to Honoghr," Atton said, walking up the ramp, "Then we take a stop at Ruac." He put down his container as Vas came up over the top of the ramp.

Vas shook his head and said, "Honoghr - that place gives me the creeps."

"Hey, I don't like it either. The guys at that mining facility called up as well, so we can hit that after we hit Ruac," Atton continued, putting his hands along his waist.

"That's a bit out of the way," Vas commented, putting his container down as Atton went to grab another.

"For those two, sure, but we've also gotta make a run out to Emmer," Atton commented, coming back up the ramp with a container.

"Couldn't we hit Emmer first and then the miners?" Vas remarked.

Atton shrugged, "Sure, doesn't matter that much. This ship's got a fuel tank twice the size it needs, so either way we'll make it back for the next run."

"You sound awfully okay with this," Vas noted.

Atton plopped the container down in the tight pile that was well formed by then. He left a hand on top of one of the containers and said, "I'm not gonna lie: those miners are making me nervous."

"Yeah," Vas made a hesitant laugh, "Show up once, twice - hell, even three times and usually folks can just brush it aside. But they've been calling us a lot."

"You can say that again," Atton grumbled, "I've got a feeling our welcome is wearing thin."

"Yeah. We should make this run our last to those guys for a while. Let it blow over before we take another order from them," Vas said.

"You know very well it doesn't work like that. Lose a client, and you lose 'em for good," Atton snarked, and then said, "But I agree. Our hides are on the line, and I'd rather be short a few credits than stuck behind a force cage on some forsaken asteroid."

They finished moving the last of the containers, leaving a narrow path from the loading ramp to the cockpit, a distance that was little more than a dozen feet. Atton plopped into the pilot seat and Vas in the copilot seat, and the two began pressing away at the controls.

"How's things look on your end?" Vas asked as he checked the gauges for the fuel tanks.

"Everything's stable. Just gotta get off this trash heap," Atton responded.

"I'm with you there," Vas commented. At the commands from their fingertips, the little ship released its pressured air to the surface of the landing pad, blowing dust and grime every which way as it gradually floated mere feet from the ground. The landing feet retracted themselves into the bottom of the ship from its new airborne spot. Then the flight engine glowed hot as fire reached and presented itself and propelled the freighter forward as the pressurized air finished its dispatchment. It flew forward and made a tight turn towards the atmosphere, thick with green-gray clouds. The artificial gravity activated, holding the two men and dozen crates in place as the ship drove into the cruddy clouds, dirt and gunk colliding against the windshield. Through the thick haze it pushed. The outer metal nearly froze over, then superheated, then froze again as it pushed further beyond the Smuggler's Moon, cutting itself through the atmosphere. It slipped into open space, and Atton began pressing in the numbers and coordinates of their first destination in the navigation computer. Vas grinned and rested his hands behind his head as the hyperspace jump began. The black world littered with stars shifted as they turned to tinted blue streaks, then transformed into a haze of blue lights and swirls surrounding the ship like a tunnel swallowing them whole.

They landed on Honoghr with ease, the crusted sand of the tall-walled landing docks dislodging slightly and sifting as the ship placed itself on the ground. A roof closed in above them, blocking out the harsh sun. Vas quickly ran out to introduce himself to the Noghri docks inspector while Atton prepared the first collection of spice, placing a few well-sealed packages in a hard, Skuhm leather messenger bag. He handed the bag to Vas when he returned, and he ran out again to deliver the package. When his partner returned, Atton immediately began to fly the freighter away from the planet.

Their run to the Republic outpost on the thickly-forested Ruac went similarly smooth, despite the aggravating cargo inspection the soldiers. When the soldiers found nothing suspicious, Atton grabbed his leather bag, stuffed it with more spice, and slinked off to deliver the goods, leaving Vas to occupy himself with chatting up the stationed men and women by the tiny bar that the outpost permitted to serve as a cantina. Atton swung by after a few hours with a cocky grin, flashing a medpack that he had previously stuffed in the bag, and Vas waved goodbye to the good men and women breaking their backs to defend the good and lawful of the galaxy. He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony.

After visiting the green fields of Emmer for a few days, relaxing in one of the smaller cities that spotted the planet and dropping off the third collection of spice, the much lighter freighter drifted its way to the Peragus Mining Facility. With careful weaving through the asteroid field, the little ship landed in the dock with no incident. Atton walked down the cargo ramp into the open section of the facility and greeted the human flight manager with a grin and a rough handshake.

"Hey hey! Good to see you guys again," the man said cheerfully, "It's been awhile - you two are almost regulars out here."

"Somebody's gotta make sure you miners have some news of the outside world," Atton remarked with a grin, patting the man on the back, "Billy, was it?"

"Yup. You boys here for a top-off?" the man named Billy asked.

"As always," Atton said, "Gas and gossip."

"Maybe I can talk Chertra into getting you boys something to drink," Billy half-joked, then added, "Some of the others were asking about you. If I see them, I'll send them your way."

Vas and Atton stood around the ship as it's fuel tank was getting topped off. Vas walked off with the leather bag they had been using with one of the miners, to "get some coffee." Atton in the meantime set up along one of the walls and offered some of the junk he had gathered for small-credit sales; one miner bought an old holochess board that he had been trying to figure out how to get rid of for noticed a few of the security officers far off towards the doors leading into the facility. Atton kept his eyes between the door and the security guards, waiting for his partner to show up as he gave the local workers the rundown of the big news in the galaxy that he had picked up that year - unrest in Onderon, rebuilding efforts of Telos, the Sith turning in on themselves, increased patrols along the Outer Rim, the ruin of one of the powerful Hutt families, Manaan's peace relations with the Republic - as well as a few minor things for the miners - fashionable colors on Coruscant, plant seasons on Kashyyyk, games. In the corner of his eye he saw the security guards start to move for him. He looked over towards the fuel line, which was just being detached from the ship, and began to pack up the last of the containers, by then mostly empty. Then he saw Vas sprinting from the opposite corner of the room to their freighter. He went to run as well, but he was grabbed roughly on the arm by one of the security guards. Just as he wrestled his arm out of the guard's grip, the ship was floating in the air and soaring away into the asteroid field and beyond. Rough hands of the security guards grabbed him by the shoulders and arms, yanking him into the facility.


	3. Chapter 3: Unravelling

A man stood firm in the bridge of the warship, his stern, working, brown eye glaring down at the lights of the control panels his men and women sat before as they controlled the ship. His other eye was milk white, and the skin around it had pulled backwards from it so it bulged forward from his head. The right side of his face had bloated slightly, and a piece of his yellow-grey skin was missing from his long upper lip. Cracks ran along his entire body, occasionally revealing bits of muscle, some of which was blackened or green, warped in unseemly ways. He wore a long black leather glove that covered his right arm and tall, thick black leather boots with clamps running up them. His flowing, black pants were tucked into the boots, billowing around the edge, and wrapping tightly around his waist. Along his hips were a set of half a dozen petal shaped leather pads, each with a scale-like design pressed into the thick material.

One of the men gave a deep bow before coming up to stand on his left. The fully human, fully alive man wore the same uniform: loose grey pants tucked into tall black boots, grey long-sleeve shirt hidden mostly beneath hardened black vests and black cloaks that almost reached the knee, black gloves that reached the elbow. The shirt had a neck and head attachment that he kept down for that point in time.

"We will soon be intercepting the vessel's path, my lord," the smaller, unmasked man said.

"I can already feel her presence, though it is faint," the large corpse said, his voice hollow and echoing even in his own throat, "This shall mark our victory."

"My lord, I have also been told to inform you that we have gathered some more information on this woman, although it is not particularly substantial," the unmasked man interjected.

"What did you find?" the hollow man asked, turning his head so his good eye looked at his subordinate from its corner.

"Medical documents, I believe," the subordinate informed, "Dating nearly ten years ago."

"Well done, Captain," the dead man commented. He turned and began walking away and out of the bridge as he said, "Alert me when the target has arrived."

* * *

A tall, silver protocol droid patrolled past the mess hall, taking full view of the corridor and nearby rooms of the ship with it's yellow screen-like eyes. The target was eating in the mess hall, the next room to its right, speaking with one of the female soldiers. Five feet, six inches and three millimeters, black hair and blue eyes, her features were nearly exact to the hologram it had encoded from it's master before setting out on this mission. It was fortunate to have snuck onto the correct Republic vessel.

The droid walked into the momentarily empty medical facility and quickly created a new program for the moment. Under normal circumstances, the droid would have waited until the vessel had reached Telos and followed the target before turning her over to it's master. However, these were not normal circumstances. It's master had recently contacted it, alerting it to an impending attack from a Sith warship also seeking the target, likely with notions of hostility. It would be unacceptable to lose such a precious resource.

A datapad ejected from the main medical computer. The droid took the datapad, left the medbay, turned down another hallway, and stopped in front of one of four doors that lined the hall. The droid's torso opened a small door and a small, claw-like object came out. The claw attached itself to the central key of the door. Soon, the door opened and the claw released itself from the key, retreating into the open abdomen of the droid. It placed the datapad on the bunk inside the room and left, closing the door behind it, and continued on its patrol of the medical bay area.

* * *

An elderly woman meditated in one of the bunks of a small freighter. Her long, wrinkled hands and failing eyes were hidden by the long, wide-armed brown cloak that covered her. She wore a greyed tan gown with a low neckline and an olive turtleneck underneath it. Her thick hair had fallen over her shoulders, and the sides were decorated with golden, lightly tarnished bands.

A middle-aged man walked into the room without knocking.

"We are encroaching the Harbinger. We should be able to dock shortly and send some of our men to capture the woman," the man informed.

"Good," the old woman said, "You do understand that discrepancy is absolutely vital. We would not survive an assault from a Republic warship."

"Understood," the man responded and then continued, "Also, we have been alerted that a Sith warship is also en route towards the vessel."

"Indeed," the woman said under her breath, "He never could keep his presence unknown."

The man blinked and said, "Ma'am?"

The old woman stood from the bunk and faced him, saying, "This complicates things for us. We must capture the Exile and escape from the vessel's proximity before the Sith are any the wiser. There are too few of us and this vessel is not equipped for an assault, especially not from the Sith."

"Of course, ma'am," the man said, "The crew is already preparing for docking, and we will be sure to leave as soon as she is contained."

"Good," the old woman said, "Now, leave me to my meditations."

The old woman sat back down on the bunk and crossed her legs, joining her hands under the sleeves of her robes. The man saluted and walked out from the room.

* * *

Vara waved goodbye to the female officer before punching in the code to her room. She had found it odd that she was given her own room, even when the Harbinger's commander specifically said that she wasn't to be given any special treatment to the crew. Her first day on the ship shortly after departing Deralia, she had made her way to the women's barracks when she was turned around to the private sector reserved for the commander and high-ranking officials.

She noticed the datapad sitting on her bunk and picked it up, reading the short message: Report to the medbay for your treatment. Vara narrowed her eyes, but then remembered her mandatory visit to the medical bay the first day.

_Vara sat on the edge of a table, a few wires strapped and taped to her arm, her legs crossed at her ankles and her hands loosely holding the table's edge. The nurse on staff walked up to her with a tiny syringe and drew a sample of blood from her arm._

_"We don't have any recent medical records of you. Did you have a care physician outside of Republic jurisdiction within the past ten years?" the nurse said as he stored the blood in a small vial._

_"Yes - Doctor Yohoro. He practices in the town of Veran on Deralia," Vara informed, "But I've only started seeing him five years ago."_

_"Five years is better than nothing," the nurse said smiling as he looked at her over his broad shoulder before checking the medical screen she was attached to. After pressing a few buttons he said, "So far you seem healthy. We just need to make sure your immunizations are up-to-date and you're not harboring any dormant viruses. We can check your blood sugar tomorrow."_

_"Is that all you need from me?" Vara asked, itching to get the cords off of her arm._

_"For now," the nurse said, "We'll let you know if you need any immunizations or medication."_

Vara pocketed the datapad in her vest and left her room, taking a left down the hall and a right into the medical facility. She walked to the main medical computer in the center of the room and hooked the datapad up to it. Then she pulled off her clothes to her underwear as one of the nearby tanks began to turn on, folding them and placing them on the table. She turned around and pressed a button that opened the screen of the kolto tank before stepping inside. The screen raised up, sealing the tank, and a breather mask was released from the tank's ceiling. She attached the mask around her face and mouth, ensuring it clamped tightly around her face. The clear liquid kolto began to fill the tank, lapping around her ankles. It rose, and the odd, slightly viscous kolto engulfed her body. She closed her eyes, knowing that the base sedative would be released and be absorbed into her skin, leaving her body loose and ready for whatever chemical the good doctor had prepared for her. The familiar slipping sensation began to ensue as her nerves dimmed and her conscious began to dissipate to oblivion.

A silver protocol droid walked into the medical bay, just as the additional sedatives and toxins were released into the kolto where Vara was resting. It waited several minutes to allow the chemicals enough time to properly circulate through the target's system. After the machine was satisfied enough that the circulation had done it's job, the droid had Vara released from the kolto tank. Her limp form lowered with the kolto as it drained until it was left leaning against the plexiglass of the tank. The screen opened and the droid removed the mouthpiece before gathering her up. The droid quietly slipped along, avoiding the unnecessary gazes and paths of the unsuspecting crew, though noticing that the crew seemed a little more out-of-it than usual. It eventually came to an empty plasteel cylinder in a nearby cargo hold. Carefully, it put Vara into the cylinder, having to tuck her legs close to her chest and her arms above her knees so her hands wrapped near her neck. Then, it closed the cylinder and sealed it tight. The droid went off to ensure a clear path to the escape pods.

The droid stopped and hid behind the hall, noticing the strange flicker of a shadow passing near one of the crew members. It switched it's photoreceptors' function from color vision to infrared. The heat signatures revealed another body - a male human - walking away from the direction of the crew member. An infiltration. A quick scan of the area revealed another living person's heat signature far down the hall that disappeared quickly around the bend. Uniforms could not be distinguished under any of the photoreceptor capabilities, leaving a 50-50 chance of two possibilities of what the invisible figures were after: the droid's target, or the ship. Firing a blaster would alert the crew to the abnormality, but would also expose the droid as being more than a well-qualified protocol droid. As of now, the droid did not have an accurate count or an estimation of the number of infiltrators, so it could not guarantee a chaotic outbreak large enough for the droid to make it's escape.

The cloaked man walked around the corner, just passing the droid. The droid grabbed the man's head and swiftly spun it so it snapped. The invisible man fell to the ground.

The Harbinger had not stopped at any ports since departing Deralia, meaning the infiltrators could only have boarded by attaching another, smaller ship to the Republic warship. Whether or not they were after the target, the droid could easily sneak onto the ship with the target, kill any surviving crew, sabotage the controls, and make it's way to the nearest spaceport to contact it's master.

The droid quietly left the room and walked towards one of the elevators, taking it to the lower decks. Leaving the elevator, it noted two full-body signatures standing near one of the many closed cargo ramps. The body signatures shifted as the droid came closer; one left it's spot to flank it. The droid ran up and grabbed the human female by the arm, forcing the woman to the ground and pulling her arm out of it's socket. The droid quickly snapped her neck as her partner obviously pulled out a blaster from his pocket. The droid hit the man's wrist, timing it perfectly so that he aimed at his kneecaps and inadvertently pulled the trigger. He dropped and started writhing in pain, and the droid quickly snapped his neck to silence his screams. Two hidden humans standing guard near an assumedly unused cargo ramp - very suspicious indeed.

The droid turned around and entered the elevator. When it reached the top, the door opened revealing two more invisible humans, carefully maneuvering the cylinder that the droid had stored it's target in, holding it barely an inch from the floor as they scuttled across. The humans froze and quickly but softly dropped the cylinder onto the ground. The droid walked up towards the cylinder and the two humans slowly crept backwards.

"Oh! What is this doing out here?" the droid announced, clearly looking at the cylinder, "I absolutely must put this away immediately!" The stress readings from the two humans reduced as the droid bent down to pick up Vara's cylinder. It turned around and walked into the elevator, placing the cylinder on the floor. The humans quickly snuck onto the elevator as the droid punched in the number for the bottom deck. The elevator door closed and the lift began to move. The humans reached for their stun sticks. The droid waited until they both thrust their stun batons at it and the droid stepped backwards far enough, letting their momentum carry them to hit each other instead. Their bodies locked and fell to the ground as their stealth field generators flickering to lifelessness. The droid picked up it's cargo and walked to the cargo door. It placed down the cylinder, pressed in a few numbers near the ramp, and the ramp slid open. On the other side was a room inside a small ship that had attached itself to the Harbinger. The droid picked up the cylinder and placed just within the entrance of the foreign ship before closing the ramp and dislodging the ship from behind. It switched it's photoreceptors from infrared vision to color.

"You'd better have the exile with you!" a gruff, masculine voice called from around the corner, followed by an aggravated, middle-aged man. The droid charged it's arms and the man stopped in his tracks.

"Breach! Intruder on board!" the man shouted, and soon screamed in agony as the droid released an electric current from it's arm to the man. He fell to the ground twitching. The droid ran to the cockpit, easily dispatching the two guards that tried to stop it and snapped the neck of the pilot and copilot. The droid attached a claw from it's abdomen to the cockpit controls, programming the freighter to dislodge itself from the Harbinger and begin flying away. It detached itself and turned around to have three humans with vibroblades on it's heel. The droid shocked one human and snapped the neck of another. Then a charge shot through the droid's circuitry, overloading the droid's systems, fusing out all primary functions. The droid collapsed to the ground.

The surviving human - a woman, turned towards the entrance of the cockpit to see the old woman from the bunk standing there.

"Miss!" the younger woman called.

"This was unexpected, but it has worked in our favor," the old woman mumbled. She then turned to the younger woman and said, "Quickly, let the remainder of us fly out of here before anyone is the wiser."

"But miss," the younger woman stammered, "what about the woman? Or the others?"

"The others are gone to us and the exile was brought aboard our ship as cargo, by none other than that machine I assume," the elderly woman croned, "Now quickly - the Sith are not far behind us."

"I... yes ma'am," the woman said. The old woman left again and the young woman pushed the body of the previous pilot aside before assuming her post there.

* * *

"My lord!" the captain ran up to the living corpse as he stormed towards the bridge of the Sith warship. The captain took stride beside him.

"My lord, a freighter has been spotted departing from beneath the Harbinger," the captain speedily reported.

"The Jedi woman has been taken," the corpse-man said, "Do not let that ship escape."

"Yes, my lord," the captain said quickly before vanishing in a hurry.

The gun turrets rotated, following the flight path of the escaping vessel. They pumped and streaks of light and heat howled through the void. Most whizzed past the tiny target, but a few managed to hit the port and starboard sides.

The freighter shook as one of the last three crew members came walking into the cockpit, causing him to stumble.

He caught the wall for his balance and yelled, "Was that the Republic?"

"Probably," the new pilot said without turning around, attention darting between controls and readings and the space outside, "I doubt they like a few hooligans stealing their cargo."

"That was not the Republic," the old woman said from behind, "We have another enemy in pursuit. We must depart and quickly!"

"Working on it," the pilot grunted, then turned around and said to the male crew member, "Get up in that gun turret! I can't make a hyperspace jump if they keep shooting us like that."

The man ran down the hall and stopped in front of a ladder, climbed up, and squeezed into the tight space. Once he was settled enough, he grabbed a hold of the controls and spun his seat in the compact dome. Almost a hundred feet away, floating menacingly in pursuit, was an enormous ship. From below, it's body seemed to be shaped like an arrow head with gentle convex curves, and he could easily make out the curving hook that opened like a shark's mouth, separating the upper and lower decks across the ship. The three engines on the stern were at full power, light and heat radiating from the energy that was shoving the grey warship forward. Streaks of green and red barreled past the freighter and the man's tiny plexiglass cage. He aimed his little turrets in the general direction where some of the blasters originating. The man fired repeatedly at the Sith warship, colors pummeling past. One of the blasters from the warship stopped firing.

"Alright! Got one!" the man then aimed at the top nose of the ship and fired his little turrets. One of the enemy blaster bolts hit the engine of the freighter.

Red lights flashed and alarms started sounding back in the cockpit as the female pilot cursed to herself.

"Shit - this keeps up and we're not gonna last another minute," the woman muttered to herself. One of the ship's two utility droids rolled out from the security room and began to quickly run towards the engine room.

The man in the turrets fired a few more shots at the bow of the warship before turning his guns towards the other blast-cannons. The turrets on either side of him thumped back and forth repeatedly as orange beams hammered out into the sky. A green blast struck the central body of the freighter. Another enemy blast hit the bow. The pilot sprung backwards in her seat, flinging her hands upward as sparks leapt and arced from the controls in front of her. Asteroids floated a few hundred feet on the starboard side of the ship.

The corpse-man stormed into the front bridge as the plexiglass of the warship's nose shattered. He halted and threw his arms in front of his face, roughly pulling on the Force to keep his feet rooted; a few of the men at the controls were immediately sucked into the open gap. Other crew members fell to the floor or held onto their chairs to stay where they were. He concentrated and the metal ceiling behind him shook as it peeled itself away from the rest of the ship. Nails and screws popped as the sheet curled and were flung out only to be sucked out into the void. Finally, the sheet released itself from the hold of the ship, leaving behind it's exposed wires that it was protecting, opened itself and slammed against the gaping hole in the plexiglass. The crew members scrambled, breathing heavily in the thin air.

"Status," one man said.

"Turrets three and nine are offline, sir. Minor damage to the energy system. Oxygen levels are being recirculated now," another man on the opposite end of the controls reported.

"Damn it," a third man said, slamming his fist onto the console, "The thing is only seventy-five feet wide! How is it not in pieces? I know we hit it by now!"

"It could be a smuggler's vessel, sir," the second man suggested, "They often have significant upgrades that most freighters don't."

"That would at least explain how they were able to get in and out from the Republic ship so quickly," the first man muttered.

"Enough chatter!" the breathing corpse said, throwing his left arm in front of him in an arc, "Destroy that ship."

"My lord," the second man piped up, "We're getting some readings - the Republic ship is coming towards our vicinity."

The dead Sith Lord grit his teeth.

The man in the freighter's gun turret continued thrusting shots at the warship. A shot from the warship came stabbing down and burst at the open area next to him. Warning bells began to ran to the side as the sound of air being sucked out of the tiny clamp played to his left. He took a few quick blasts at the warship before he started to feel lightheaded. He tried to swerve his seat so he could slip down the escape hatch, but it was stuck in its spot. His left arm reached for his neck as he wheezed. His right arm traced along the controls and emergency buttons. His vision blurred and his lungs sucked harder for any trace amounts of oxygen. Sounds, lights, structure, and feeling all blended and blurred until all of it disappeared.

The pilot stood over remaining the copilot controls, her fingers flying wildly as she tried to keep the ship steady. Smoke filtered into the room. When she noticed the hot, choking cloud gathering around her eyes and mouth, she crouched down, still attempting to maintain some base level of control. The controls in front of her blew and electricity shot through her body before she could pull herself away. She screeched and fell limp against the chair in front of her.

The old woman on the freighter kept her arm in front of her face as she guided herself towards the engine room. A shot finally penetrated the ship's hull, and pieces of it flew in all directions. An iron rod that was flung from the blast embed itself deep within her side. The woman gasped and fell to her knees, hands wrapping instinctively around her side. Blood spilled out, staining her dark clothes even darker. Her hands shaking, she reached out with her mind and slowly pulled out the rod. Screaming, the rod went further and further outside of her flesh until it plopped to the ground with a clank. The old woman collapsed, reaching weakly one more time with her mind to her wounds as blood cascaded from her body. Soon, the world slipped away, and she couldn't tell if the bleeding had or would ever stop.

The small freighter had visibly stalled. Engines were offline, gravity was barely being held, oxygen was haphazard, and the turret had stopped attacking the warship.

"It appears our task is done, my lord," the commanding officer said, allowing himself the privilege of a satisfied smile on his face, "If anyone is alive at this time, they will not last long in that sorry state."

The Sith Lord had his hairless eyebrows furrowed together as his good eye gazed out and downwards to the dying freighter.

"My lord, the Republic vessel is encroaching," the crew man by the radars announced, "Shall we leave?"

The Sith Lord stood with his arms crossed against his chest.

"No," the corpse finally said.

"My lord?" the officer looked up at the Sith Lord.

"We shall engage the vessel in secret," the Sith Lord said, "I want to make sure this woman and her 'companions' do not survive."

"I..." the commanding officer began. Before he could say anything, the dead man mentally loosened his tight grip on the Force, and his body collapsed with a heavy thud. The officer looked down at the barely-breathing body before him.

"...Yes, my lord," the officer muttered. He left the bridge as the remaining crewmembers turned on the stealth field generators each one wore around his or her waist.


End file.
